The following is written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
I can remember sitting in her therapist’s office years ago with tears streaming down my face.
My daughter Chloe, then only 9, was struggling with debilitating anxiety, and I was heartbroken over her battling an enemy that I so often fought, too.
I knew that pain, and I wouldn’t have wished it on my worst enemy, let alone my child.
I remember the therapist telling me that, yes, it was hard to live with anxiety, but that having it was not a death sentence.
Having it would also shape her into someone who noticed things. Who picked up on things when others, maybe, did not.
She assured me that people that go through it, and learn to manage it often become the best mothers, fathers, nurses, caretakers, and friends.
I so hoped that day that she would be right, and I sit here tonight realizing just how right she was.
There have been many times over the last few years since that Chloe has zeroed in on me.
Helped carry my burden.
Let me know I’m not alone.
Motherhood can be such a lonely, invisible role.
Every kid dressed in the latest,
you in 5 year old pants with holes.
Every kid eating their dinner plated the way that they like, while your own dinner grows cold.
This morning I had texted my own mom saying,
“You know you’re running on an empty tank when Daniel Tiger’s song ‘Thank You For All You Do’ makes you cry.”
Tonight I have been struggling.
Endless feeling homework help, dishes, vacuuming, laundry.
Take out the garbage.
Feed all the pets.
I felt like I wanted to cry, when suddenly,
there was Chloe at my side.
“I’ll do that, Mama,” she said as I scooped the litter box.
“No Honey, that’s OK.”
“Then is there something else I can do for you?
You look like you could use some help.”
Chloe drew Paige a bath tonight and then helped her trim her nails.
She packed lunches, helped me carry laundry baskets, and later, as I sat alone in the back room just trying to breathe,
she quietly entered,
wrapped her arms around me soft,
and said,
“I love you so much, Mama,” and then the words every mother longs to hear sometimes:
“Thank you for all you do.”
I saw my girl in that moment in a whole new light.
I saw in her the truth that all of life’s trials, and negative experiences have the power to shape us into something even better than we were starting out if we let them;
If we don’t allow our hearts to grow bitter and defeated in the process.
I saw before me a gentle, nurturing girl.
A good friend. A soft-place to fall.
A girl that sometimes feels kind of anxious,
but who doesn’t let it stop her from moving forward, and from showing her love.
I saw the girl i used to worry I’d lost,
not only back, but better.
I saw my girl,
and just like that,
I saw how much everything she had gone through had helped her see me too.